Family Portrait
by Sparky Pants
Summary: In our family portrait we look pretty happy, pretty normal, perfect infact. Maybe even too perfect...
1. Chapter One

A/N: First attempt at a CSI fanfic, dunno how it's gonna go. Hopefully okay. May be a bit slow moving at first,  but stick with it. Please review let me know how I'm doing. Also I don't know how much character family info has been given over the various episodes, so if any of this is wrong… sorry. Please review. 

Standard disclaimer applies, don't know them, don't own them, please don't sue yadda yadda yadda.

Family Portrait 

-

Nick yawned and looked up from his most recent case report, hearing loud heels clap on the corridor floor towards him. He frowned at the unfamiliar figure of a young woman in a black suit. "Can I help you?" He asked, stepping in front of the figure slightly, stopping her from her reaching her destination.

She raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. "No." She replied simply, obviously irritated, before stepping past him and continuing down the hallway.

For a moment he was taken aback by her abruptness and lack of manners, watching her as she rounded the corner and disappeared from view. He paused there for a moment, not moving, staring at the spot she'd last been seen.

He woke from his daze at the sound of someone clearing their voice. "Uh, Nick?"

He looked up, seeing Grissom standing there, eyeing him unusually. "Yeah?" He asked, shaking his head.

"What are you doing?" The older man inquired.

Nick opened his mouth to speak, pausing before he did so. "Nothing…"

"Well shouldn't you be doing something?" Grissom suggested, the Texan's actions confusing him.

Nick nodded once. "Yeah… don't visitors have to wear badges? Or passes? Or something?"

"Yes" Grissom replied slowly, "Why?"

Nick pointed behind him. "I just… someone, out of place…" He trailed off; shrugging at the look Grissom gave him. "I dunno, just seemed weird."

Grissom nodded. "Right."

~~

"**What** are you **doing**?"

Greg jumped out of his skin, the disapproving voice breaking into the unusual silence in the lab. "Holy. Shit." He said slowly, hand to his chest, eyes wide. He looked over to the doorway, his eyes growing even wider if possible. "You?" He asked, his voice somewhat disbelieving as he looked at the person before him.

"Indeed." The woman replied. "And you." She paused, her eyes critically scanning the room. "You're a lab rat." She told him, walking into the lab and finding a stool to sit on. She eyed it with disgust, checking to make sure nothing was on it before sitting down.

Greg frowned at her. "I'm not a lab rat. I'm a scientist—"

"Same thing." She interrupted.

He rolled his eyes at her. "What are you doing here?" He asked, "And don't touch that." She pouted at him and he gave her a warning look. "Seriously. You shouldn't even be in here."

The woman rolled her eyes and moved her hand away from the petri dish on the counter in front of her. "You're so much like Dad." She mumbled, observing her nails, chewing irritatingly on her gum.

"Why are you here?" Greg repeated, his patience wearing thin.

She crossed her legs, repositioning herself in her seat. "It's kind of a funny story really…" She began lazily, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

Greg crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue. "Well?"

"Well you know—"

"Who are you?" A voice from the doorway interrupted. The two looked up to see Grissom standing there, arms folded, Nick by his side, watching them with interest.

Greg shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, Marie, this is Gil Grissom, my **boss**, and Nick Stokes." He paused, cringing slightly at the look she was giving them. "Guys, this is Marie. My sister."

"What's she doing here Greg?" Grissom inquired, his tone holding disapproval.

Marie studied the two in the doorway for a minute before turning to her brother. "I don't care who they are." She told him simply.

"And I don't care who you are. You can't be here." Grissom told her, turning his attention away from Greg.

"Well I am, so… tough shit." She told him simply, turning back to Greg, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. "Look Greg, I need to talk to you."

Greg looked nervously from Grissom to Marie. "Okay…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Alone?" She suggested, irritation still present in her voice.

"Marie, you really can't be here." He told her.

"All I want is five minutes." She rolled her eyes at Greg's look, shaking her head at Grissom and Nick's presence. "Fine have it your way." She stood up, readjusting herself. "Mom's dead." She headed for the door, ready to leave. "Just thought you should know."


	2. Chapter Two

Nick raised an eyebrow at Marie's comment, moving out of the way as she made her way back down the hall. He turned his attention to Greg who had a blank look on his face.

"You okay?" He inquired.

Greg shook his head once. "Sorry what?"

"Are you okay Greg?" Grissom repeated for Nick. "Do you want to go after her?"

Greg frowned. "Not really."

Nick was confused. "Man, she just said your mom was dead…"

Greg shrugged. "And?"

Nick's mouth dropped open. "O-kay." He replied slowly.

"Don't you think you should go find out what happened?" Grissom inquired, entirely confused over Greg's reaction.

The younger man shook his head. "Not really…" He paused. "Well actually… do you think I should? I should." He finished, talking more to himself. "Okay… I'll be right back." He told them before jogging down the hallway after his sister.

Nick and Grissom remained silent for a moment, staring into the empty lab. "That seem weird to you?" Nick began.

"Completely."

"Good."

~~

"Marie!" Greg called, heading out into the parking lot. "Marie, wait up."

Marie turned, hearing her name being called. She frowned and leant against her car lazily. "What?" She asked, watching her brother approach.

"She's dead?"

"Ya."

"Just like that? Dead?"

Marie shifted slightly. "**Pretty** much."

Greg frowned. "What are you not telling me?" He asked.

Marie laughed, almost nervously. "So I came home the other day, cause you know my term at Uni's over for now. And uh… she's kind of… lying there, not moving, with red stuff all round her. I thought she'd passed out again, you know, her and Dad having had some party."

"And…?" Greg urged.

"And… she hadn't been at a party… she was dead."

"Dead?" Greg repeated, wanting to know for sure.

"Murdered. Yes. Dead."

"Murdered." Greg repeated. Marie nodded and they were silent. "Did you call the police?"

She paused and then nodded. "Dad did." She rolled her eyes and her voice regained more of its irritation and arrogance. "He's spent the last two hours pretending to be devastated. And Tim's already got a speech ready for the funeral." She told him, referring to their older brother.

"You found out two hours ago?"

Marie nodded. "Two of your 'CSI' people are at the house now."

Greg raised an eyebrow and nodded. He paused, knowing his next question was pointless, but feeling the need to ask it anyway. "You okay?" He asked her.

She shrugged. "Yeah. Never better." She told him indifferently. "You? Got blown up didn't you?"

Greg flinched slightly at her bluntness. "Yeah." He nodded. "Pretty much."

She faked a smile and nodded. "Dumbass." She told him, opening her car door. "I gotta go. Stop by later. Carrie wants the will sorted by Thursday." She flashed him an arrogant smile, climbing into her car. "See you later lab rat."

~~

"Well?" Nick asked, upon Greg's return to the lab, Grissom having already left for his office.

"Yeah." Greg replied. "She's dead. Murdered apparently. Who's out on a case at the moment?"

"You're mom was murdered?" Nick asked incredulously. Greg nodded. "And you don't even care?"

Greg shrugged. "We were never really that close."

"But she's your mom."

"Was my mom Nick. She's dead now."


	3. Chapter Three

"ID's just come in." Brass said loudly, approaching the two CSI's as he walked into the living room. "A Jane Sanders. Daughter found her earlier today. Husband rang the police." Brass told Catherine and Warrick.

Catherine frowned, surveying the body in front of them. "Time of death is approximately a week ago though…"

"As if you couldn't tell from the smell." Warrick added, making a face as he snapped a photograph of the victim.

Brass shrugged. "What the uniforms told me."

Catherine nodded, looking around the room and then back to the body. "Well we've got pretty much everything we need. No signs of forced entry though and no signs of a struggle…" She told them.

"She was killed by someone she knew." Warrick stated, shaking his head. He turned to Brass. "Are the daughter and the husband the only other two who live in the house?"

"According to neighbours only the husband and wife do… or did. They've got four kids. Tim, the eldest, thirty something, lives out in Oregon. Military. Has visited once since he left home nine years ago, and that was when the house was burgled."

Catherine frowned. "Their neighbours pay that much attention?" She commented, doing a final check over of the room.

Brass shrugged. "Then there's the first daughter Carrie. Around twenty-nine. Works as a lawyer out in New York. Also only seems to have visited that once."

"How long ago did she leave?" Warrick asked.

"Don't know, not too long after 'Tim' apparently." Brass replied. "Then there's Gregory, a scientist here in Vegas, twenty six or so, and then Marie a—"

"Gregory?" Catherine interrupted, puzzled. "Did you say her name was Jane **Sanders**?"

Brass checked his notes. "Yeah, why?"

"So the son would be Gregory Sanders?" Catherine asked again, throwing a concerned look to Warrick.

"I guess so." Brass replied, still confused.

"You don't think…" Warrick trailed off, looking to Catherine.

"This is Greg's mom."

~~

Grissom frowned. "Are you sure it's his mom."

Catherine crossed her arms. "Gil, you just told me that his sister came in here telling him their mom was dead. There's a picture of him on the mantle piece. Yes. I'm sure it's his mom."

"So you're gonna have to question him." It was more a statement than a question.

Catherine nodded once. "Yeah. So far we've got next to no leads. No weapon, no motive. Nothing."

Warrick spoke up. "Jane Sanders, and her family, according to neighbours, were like the perfect family unit, when they all lived in the house. Polite, friendly, got along, had loads of friends. Then the kids left and never came back. All the dinner parties they used to throw stopped. Everything changed. The neighbours to their right, the Jackson's, haven't spoken to them in five years. Before that they went round every weekend to watch the game."

Grissom nodded, taking in the information. "We need to question Greg." Catherine told him. "We can't find the husband, he's disappeared. The sister can't get here until Thursday. The other sister's off somewhere and the eldest brother's running some training course until next week. He's the only one who can tell us anything."

"You've got nothing?" Grissom asked again.

Warrick and Catherine nodded. "The killer walked in, stabbed her, and walked out." Warrick told his supervisor.

"There are no prints, no fibres, epithelia's, nothing." Catherine added.

Grissom took a deep breath. "You're gonna have to question him then."

"Question who?" The three looked up to see Greg standing at the door of Grissom's office. They stared at him blankly for a moment. "What?" 


	4. Chapter Four

"Time of death is Thursday last week. Approximately ten past eleven in the morning. Single stab wound to the lower torso. Cause of death blood loss." Doctor Robbins told Warrick and Catherine.

They nodded. "Anything else? Anything unusual?" Catherine asked, hoping that the body might hold some clue as to who had done this.

Robbins shook his head. "That's it. No bruising anywhere, no signs of a struggle. Nothing."

The room fell into silence. "This is weird." Warrick mumbled.

"Tell me about it." Catherine mumbled in agreement. "She must have known this person really well."

"Well obviously not if this is the result." Robbins replied, pulling the sheet back up to cover Jane's body. "Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

Warrick and Catherine nodded, thanking himbefore making their exit. "So I guess that means we've definitely gotta question Greg." Warrick said as they headed down the corridor.

"And the rest of the family. One of them has gotta have some idea of who could have done this."

~~~

Greg shifted uncomfortably in his seat, making a mental note not to do anything that would end up with him back here. He was in one of the buildings many interviewing rooms sat opposite Brass and Catherine, waiting for Warrick and Grissom to arrive.

"Don't worry Greg, you're not a suspect." Catherine reassured him, noticing his agitation.

He nodded and half smiled in acknowledgement of her statement, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the door to the room opening.

"Hey." Grissom said, walking in and taking a seat, Warrick following him. "Nick and Sara have gone to do a secondary survey of the whole house. They're gonna call if they find anything useful."

Catherine nodded, turning back to Greg. "So far we've got no leads. Nothing we can go on. We're hoping you can shed some light on the family situation."

"Any enemies, arguments, feuds." Warrick added.

Greg bit his lip and shook his head. "I really don't think I'm gonna be much help, but I'll try."

"That's all we're asking." Brass told him.

"First Greg." Grissom began, "I just wanna check. Where were you last Thursday, late morning?"

Greg gave Catherine a startled look. "You said I wasn't a suspect!" He blurted out, panic evident in his voice.

Catherine shook her head reassuringly. "You're not." She told him.

"It's just standard procedure." Warrick continued. "It's fine. It's not you."

Greg nodded, shifting in his seat. "I was at home, sleeping."

"Anyone see you at home?" Brass asked.

Greg's face again showed panic. "I live alone." He mumbled quickly. "But, I only left here at around half nine. It's a thirty minute drive to my house, but on the way home I stopped at the diner down Fremont Street, I got in at about eleven, went straight to bed." He told them, hoping that cleared him as a suspect.

Brass mumbled something under his breath and looked at the file he'd bought with him for a moment, showing it to Grissom, before passing it on and continuing with the questioning. "Okay, let's move on. When was the last time you saw your mother?"

Greg shrugged, his brow furrowed slightly as he thought. "A while back." He scratched his head. "Maybe two years ago?"

Warrick looked confused. "Two years ago?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah."

"Where did you see her two years ago?" Grissom continued, ignoring the oddity of the lab techs response.

"I bumped into her in the grocery store." Greg replied, shifting slightly.

"Let me get this straight a second Greg." Catherine started, looking up from the file. "You live in the same city as your parents. But the last time you saw your mother was two years ago?" Greg nodded. "And now she's dead you feel… what?"

Greg shrugged. "I… please don't put me on the spot like this Catherine." He pleaded at the look on her face. "Our family isn't like what you think."

Catherine still had a look of disappointment on her face, but it softened slightly at the young mans last comments. "Then what is it like?" She asked.

Greg shifted again. He didn't think he'd ever been in such an uncomfortable room in his life. "It's… well it's like…we're…" He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "Okay." He said taking a deep breath. "We weren't like a family… when you're thinking about us, trying to place us, don't think about us sitting round the table eating dinner together. Don't think of us as going on family trips together, or family holidays **together**, because we didn't.  Never. Not once. Yeah, we'd all eat at the same table at the same time. We'd go out and on vacation at the same time, same place, same plane, hell even same row seats. But we weren't together."

"I don't understand." Warrick put in as Greg paused.

Greg sighed again. "We were for show. We weren't a family, weren't their kids. We were just there for show." He told the four, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"So you were adopted?" Grissom asked.

Greg shook his head. "No… look. My Dad, William, was a big business man. You know, had the car, the house, the contacts, the **family**, the works." He paused. "It was like a movie. The movies with the hotshot businessman in, who have everything. My dad was one of them… like straight out a movie." He paused again, his face darker as anger he'd suppressed over years began to make its way back to the surface. "The only way you get to be one of them, to get that high up, is to fill all the criteria. You've gotta have a degree, the right car, the right look, the right house and the right family. We had to be perfect. If he had colleagues round, then one of us would have to go in and say hello to our Dad with a kiss on the cheek, because we'd 'been out' at the mall or the cinema or whatever just to make an appearance in the meeting so he could show us off. We had to be polite and loving and go and say hello to him. We were never there as their kids. Only ever for show."

"Greg—" Catherine began.

"You don't understand Catherine. That's how it was. Ask anyone. We were perfect. We were freakishly perfect. Tim was the jock, Carrie was the smart girl, I was the nerd and Marie was the cheerleader. We had one in the all four main high school groups. We didn't even wanna be there. We had no real friends, and no real family." He paused, staring at his hands for a minute. "Prior to the grocery store, I'd seen my mother once since I left home at eighteen. I've only seen my father that once too. My brother I've seen once since he left for university, the same with Carrie. And other than today, I haven't seen Marie since she left home. We weren't a family. We're not a family. I really don't think I can help you." He finished, his anger suddenly giving way to fatigue. He paused, before speaking up quietly. "Sorry."

"Wait, I thought Marie was younger than you." Warrick asked.

Greg nodded. "She is."

"But she left home before you?"

"She wanted to get out of there more than all of us put together, which is saying something. The one time we all went back after having left, she didn't go. The house was burgled. Mom and Dad attacked. We were all supposed to go back and check they were okay. Try and be a normal family. Tim told us we **all** had to… you don't screw around with Tim, you do what he says… Anyways, Marie didn't show. Tim lost it. I dunno what happened next. We were only there for one day."

"That doesn't explain why she left before you. How old was she?" Brass asked.

"Fifteen, sixteen." He shrugged. "Somewhere around there. We were all supposed to leave at eighteen; I was supposed to leave next. One day she came home from school though, livid. She was screaming and shouting and crying about something. That went against her 'role', they even told her so. Said it wasn't like her. She went crazy at that, actually crazy." He let out a bitter laugh. "I was nearly scared of her. She'd always been the youngest one, who we all had to protect. I guess I was too wrapped up in the whole perfect family portrait thing to realise that that wasn't anymore her, than 'I' was Me. Anyway, she was furious. Went up stairs grabbed her bag and left."

"Did you try and talk to her?" Grissom asked.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, she gave me a number. Moved up into Oregon into our Grandparents old house. Finished high school and went to university."

"Your parents ever catch her?" Brass inquired.

Greg paused, the nodded once. "Dad did. Four months later. He uh… went up one day. Came back three days later."

Warrick spoke up. "Was Marie with him?"

Greg shook his head. "No. I rang her, checked she was still alive 'n' all." He laughed slightly at his joke before realising what he'd said, then shifted again, continuing. "She wouldn't answer any questions. Next thing I know though, she's doing a financing degree."

"Why is that significant?" Warrick pressed.

"That's not what she wanted to be. None of us really wanted to be where we ended up. Tim never wanted to be military, once he got there though he changed, does things and says things I never thought he'd do. Carrie never wanted to be a lawyer either. She wanted to work with children. Now she can't stand them, I guess law does that to you."

"And Marie?" Catherine questioned.

"And Marie never wanted to do finance." Greg said simply. "She wanted to be a dancer." He laughed sadly. "More than anything. She'd dance everywhere, in her room, down the street, around the house. Mom and Dad didn't approve. She always knew that. They used to shout, but she'd shrug it off." He shrugged. "I guess it never changed. She's doing a post-grad degree in it now… Doesn't dance, doesn't really move… she's even more of a bitch now…" He trailed off.

"What about you?" Brass asked.

I…" He paused, avoiding their stares for a moment. "I was lucky, I liked science, maybe not as much as I was supposed to, but I did. I got lucky, I was supposed to be a doctor, I told my parents I was studying in medical school. The just signed the cheque for the fee's never questioned what I was actually doing."

"So do you think Marie could have killed your mother as revenge for making her take finance at university." Grissom questioned, his tone showing his wasn't convinced by Greg's story.

Greg looked slightly startled. "Marie could never kill anyone. She—"

"Could any other of your brothers and sisters?" Grissom interrupted.

Greg shook his head. Then, after a pause said. "Tim maybe." Having caught Grissom's stare. "But look, I… you don't know them like I do. They would never… kill anyone."

"Greg." Grissom said softly. "You just spent the last half hour explaining how you didn't know them, it could very well have been one of them."

Greg opened his mouth to reply, but shut it when no words came. He shifted uncomfortably before looking up to Catherine. "Can I go now?"

She nodded and offered him a small smile. "Yeah."

~~~

"Well if it was one the family, we've got plenty of motive now." Grissom said after Greg had left.

"That's some screwed up stuff right there, man." Warrick replied.

"Tell me about it." Catherine said, looking over the Brass's file again. "So we going after the other brother and sister's then?"

"We're gonna have to." Brass replied. "I'll get on it. They're probably coming in for the funeral. Just one thing though. Greg's story, about getting to his house that morning is all good and well. But his parent's house isn't that far away. He could have been to the diner and to theirs three times over before eleven…" He told them.

The room was silent for a moment, before Catherine spoke up. "We'll get the siblings at the funeral."

Grissom opened his mouth to speak but his cell phone ringing cut him off. "Grissom." He said into it. "Sara, you find anything? … Cell phone? Okay, we'll get the records, anything else? … really? … okay … Bye."

"What'd she say?" Warrick asked as he hung up.

"She said they found Jane Sander's cell phone in the living room. Two sets of prints on it. One set's hers, the other unidentified." Grissom replied.

"Could be nothing." Catherine commented.

Grissom nodded. "Or, it could be everything."


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far, I really appreciate it J

Nick looked at the object in his hand, turning it over to see it from all angles. "Why didn't she call 911 if she had her cell phone with her?" He asked Sara in his southern drawl.

"Maybe she didn't have it with her. Maybe she wasn't conscious." Sara replied, handing him a bag to place the cell phone in.

Nick frowned. "It's like she just lay down and died. There's no blood anywhere except where the body was."

"There's no nothing anywhere, except for where the body was." Sara told him, frustration evident in her voice. "This is ridiculous, there's nothing here."

Nick sighed and switched off his flashlight. "We're done in here, let's move on. Kitchen's the last room right?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah." She replied, heading out of the living room and towards the final room they had to check. "So, have you seen Greg? Is he okay about this?"

Nick shrugged, gently pushing the kitchen door open as they reached it. "He seemed fine. So did his sister too."

Sara frowned, walking into the room. "You saw his sister?" She asked, placing her kit on the kitchen table.

Nick nodded, making his way over to the far side of the room. "She came and told him in the lab. Me and Gris were there."

"What did she say?" Sara asked, beginning to check the cabinets nearest her.

"She just walked in and was like 'Hey Greg, mom's dead. See you later'." He shook his head, pulling his flashlight back out and shining it onto the work surface in front of him. "It was weird. She just said it, left, and he just kind of nodded and carried on working."

Sara stopped and turned round to look at her teammate. "You're kidding? Neither of them was the least bit upset?"

Nick shook his head, moving along the surface to the sink. "Nope. He followed her out though. Came back and still seemed fine. Even when he found out she'd been murdered."

Sara frowned. "He got any other siblings?"

"Yeah, apparently he's got two ol—hold up." Nick paused mid sentence. "Sara, come have a look at this." He asked her, standing back so she could get a closer look.

"What?" She asked, frowning.

Nick pointed to the cloth in the kitchen sink. "See that?" He asked, picking it up with a pair of tweezers.

Sara stared at the green cloth in his hand. It had a reddish shadow on it, with a darker stripe down the middle. "Blood?" She questioned.

"Looks like it to me." Nick replied, Sara nodded and walked over to her kit, pulling out a small bottle. "Look's like somebody wiped a knife clean." He commented, his eyes searching the rest of the room.

Sara looked up from the cloth and held it towards Nick. "Positive for human blood." She told him, showing him where the cloth had turned bright pink.

Nick nodded and took the cloth from her, placing it flat on the work surface. "Knife block." He stated, pointing to the wooden object next to the toaster. "What do you wanna bet the weapon's one of these?" He asked, pulling the six knives one by one out of the block.

Sara smiled and shook her head, watching as he held them up to the stain. "That looks like the one." She nodded slightly to the knife in his hand, as he held it up to the stain.

"Fit's perfectly." Nick agreed.

"We may have just found our murder weapon." Sara nodded, then looked down to the floor and scanned it with her eyes. "So, if the murder weapon's in here…" She began trailing off.

Nick followed her gaze to the floor. "Then someone had to come in here to put it back." He continued, catching onto where she was going.

"And maybe, we can lift some prints." Sara finished, smiling.

"Let's do it."

~~

"Hey Warrick man," Warrick turned at the sound of Nick calling his name, to see the smaller man heading towards him down the corridor. "Evidence from Greg's parents place." Nick told him, following his gaze to the evidence bags in his hands. "Do you know if we give these results to Greg to be tested?" He asked.

Warrick shrugged. "I dunno man, conflict of interest and all that."

Nick nodded. "I know, but he's the best DNA guy we got. He didn't seem all that bothered, maybe it's okay if he does."

Warrick shook his head. "I dunno Nick. I doubt it. Brass seems to think he had a hand in this. I'd check with Griss."

"Greg?" Nick asked, disbelief evident in his tone. "Brass thinks _Greg_ had a hand in this?" He paused. "Greg Sanders?" He repeated.

Warrick nodded. "Don't ask me man. It's crazy."

"Okay, I'll go ask Grissom." Nick replied. He paused before leaving. "Greg Sanders? A murderer?"

"Say it as many times as you want Nick, it's not gonna make it come true."

The two older men jumped at the sound of the third voice. They turned to see Greg leaning against the doorframe of the lab. "Greg." Nick said seeing him.

Greg nodded. "That's my name Nick… don't wear it out." He replied dryly. "Do you want me to run those for you?" He asked, gesturing towards the bags.

"How long have you been standing there?" Warrick asked, ignoring the tech labs question.

"Long enough." His reply was short and tense. "Do you want tests run on those?" Greg repeated, turning his attention back to Nick.

"Uh… well I'm just gonna go show Grissom what we found and see if it's worth running tests." Nick told the younger man, hoping his response was convincing.

Greg stared at them silently for a minute. "How did she die?" He asked quietly after the pause.

Nick shifted from one foot to the other and Warrick averted his gaze.

"She's my mother. I think I have a rite to know how she died." He stated, a hint of anger in his voice.

"She was stabbed." Nick said eventually.

"Once?"

Warrick nodded.

"Okay." Greg said quietly. He paused for a moment; running his tongue along the edge of his teeth, then spoke up. "I didn't do it." He told them firmly, before turning and walking back into the lab.


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: Thank you SO much for all the reviews, they really are appreciated – keep 'em coming =) Constructive criticism is also very much appreciated.

"Yo." Warrick said tiredly to Sara, walking into the break room.

"Hey." She said looking up from her magazine. "What's that?"

Warrick dropped the files in his hand onto the table. "Jane Sanders' cell phone records. Last call was made approximately seven minutes before time of death."

Sara raised an eyebrow, pulling the files towards her. "Really?"

Warrick nodded, taking a seat opposite. "Uh huh. 46 calls made to the same number this month."

Sara looked surprised, "But it's only the 21st."

"Exactly. Whoever this guy was, he was certainly popular."

"Guy?" Sara asked, not looking up from the pages.

"Uh huh. Richard…" He paused trying to remember the surname. "Jackson."

"Richard Jackson." Sara repeated, absentmindedly, fingering through the records.

"Yeah. 54 years old, lives thirty-five minutes away from the vic." Sara nodded, Warrick continued. "Two children, Matthew who's twenty six and Ricky who's twenty seven."

"Wife?"

"Divorced."

Sara looked up. "Why?"

Warrick shrugged. "I dunno, we'll find out soon enough though, we gotta go check him out later. Just waiting for a warrant to come through in case."

Sara nodded. "Can't wait." She murmured in response.

~~

"Hey."

Greg looked up at the voice and the soft knock on the lab door. "You don't have to knock Nick, it's just the lab." Greg said dryly.

Nick opened his mouth to make a joke in response but decided against it, noticing the younger mans body language. "You okay?" He asked.

"Peachy." Greg replied, not looking up from the DNA sample he was working on.

Nick sighed and walked away from the door towards him, taking a seat on nearby stool. "Look Greg… I'm sorry about earlier. I don't—"

"Forget it." Greg interrupted.

"But—"

"**Forget** it." Greg repeated more firmly. Nick nodded once and said no more, silently watching the younger man work. "Can I help you?" Greg asked after a minute, turning his head slowly towards where Nick was sat.

Nick shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."

Greg frowned. "Don't you have work to be doing?" He asked, irritation evident in his voice.

"Not really." Nick replied.

Greg muttered something to himself before turning back to his work. "So there's a murderer on the loose and you're sat here watching me run tests on DNA from a liquor store hold up? I must say Nick, you're slipping somewhat in your work ethic." He continued dryly.

Nick grinned slightly to himself. "Maybe I am, but work isn't everything."

"Meaning?" Greg asked impatiently, getting up from his seat and walking over to one of the machines across the room.

Nick watched him, remaining seated. "Meaning, maybe I'm concerned for my friend who's just lost someone."

"Your 'friend' who you think is a murderer." Greg added, his back turned to the older man.

"Greg." Nick began.

"I don't think you're a murderer." Greg interrupted, putting on Nick's accent.

Nick sighed and shook his head. "Look man, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean it to sound the way it did. And I'm sorry about your Mom too. I know maybe you weren't close, but it's still hard to lose someone." He stood up and headed towards the door of the lab. "If you need to talk, as a friend, I'm here, and what you say won't go any further than me. Not on any report or to anyone else on the case, it'll stay between us - friends. And if you need a familiar face at the funeral… one you haven't been avoiding or whatever for years, just let me know." He paused before leaving. "I mean it."

~~

Grissom looked up as Brass walked into his office. "You find anything?"

Brass shook his head and took a seat opposite the CSI. "We've been looking, but the only chance we've got is at the funeral. The husband and the youngest daughter have all but disappeared. The eldest son and daughter are on flights coming in Saturday. One staying at Alexis Park and the other in the Bellagio."

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Are they taking a vacation as well?"

Brass shrugged. "I dunno. It all seems a bit odd to me. You spoken to Greg?"

Grissom shook his head. "Not since the interview… I'm confused, why are they staying in fancy hotels, why not with the family?"

"I don't know." Brass repeated. "It's just them coming out. No husbands, wives, boyfriends or whatever."

"Do they have partners?"

Brass nodded. "'Tim' is married and has two kids – boys. And Carrie's engaged."

Grissom frowned. "And Greg didn't tell us?"

"Maybe he didn't know."

"I find that unlikely." Grissom replied.

"I find his whole story unlikely." Brass countered.

"You think he did it?"

"Not necessarily, but how or why would it be anyone else?"

Grissom looked unimpressed. "Jim—" He began, but was cut off.

"Think about Gil. The youngest daughter comes home because it was the end of her semester at university. But she doesn't go and see Greg, she goes and sees her parents – understandably, right?" He waited for a reaction, continuing once the man in front of him nodded slightly. "Greg obviously doesn't like his parents all that much, is annoyed she's going to see them and not him. After all **he** was the only one who had her number when she took off, implying that maybe they were close." Grissom didn't look convinced. Brass shifted slightly. "So, angry that his sister's going to see them and not him he goes to his parents house and kills whoever he finds there – his mom. Now that leaves the daughter and the husband. Years ago, the husband goes up to see his daughter and doesn't come back for three days and once he does, the daughters changed all her plans for her whole life. They obviously don't get on. She arrives finding her mother dead, her father gets home from work and she doesn't wanna be there with him, the other two kids live miles away, leaving only Greg for the youngest daughter to go to."

"Brass." Grissom began. "That's ridiculously farfetched. We've got no proof that Greg's been in or even **near** that house for years."

"Except some unknown prints."

"I am not printing one of my staff." Grissom shot back on reflex.

Brass raised an eyebrow. "I will then. If he's innocent, then they won't match."

Grissom shifted in his seat. "Fine. **But** at least wait until **after** the funeral."

Brass shook his head. "The funerals Monday. The rest of the kids get in Saturday. He could take off before then, or hide with one of them."

"Greg is not going to take off." Grissom replied, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"You don't know that."

"I don't need to."

Brass paused before replying. "You're going to be entirely uncooperative on this aren't you?"

Grissom nodded. "He won't do it. And you'll never get a warrant."

Brass shook his head and stood up. "Watch me."


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: Thank u so much for all the reviews =) and to all of those who are reading Control as well. I really appreciate it. Keep 'em coming =D

"Richard. Jackson?"

Sara stared at the man in front of her and Warrick, waiting for him to reply.

"Yes?" He asked, confused as to who they were.

"Hi." Warrick began. "We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab, we're investigating the murder of a Jane Sanders… we need to ask you some questions."

Sara frowned slightly at the man's reaction. "Jane… Jane Sanders?" He asked weakly.

"Did you know her?" Sara asked.

He let out a small laugh. "Know her? I've been in love with the woman for six years…" He trailed off. "She's dead?"

"Mr. Jackson, can we come in please?" Warrick asked, taking a step forwards.

Richard shook his head as if to clear it before nodding. "Yes, certainly. Come in." He told them, stepping back so they could get past.

"Mr. Jackson," Sara began once they were sat around his kitchen table. "Our records show us that you were on the phone to Mrs. Sanders just before she died. Do you remember speaking to on the nineteenth of this month?"

Richard shrugged. "I… I spoke to her every day… I… I don't remember."

"Think hard." Warrick told him. "Did she mention anyone else in the house? What she was doing that day, what she'd done the day before? Anything at all?"

Richard shook his head, before resting it in his hands. "I… I'm sorry I really don't know." His head remained down for a moment before he looked up. "She's really dead?" He asked again, his voice watery.

Warrick nodded. "We're sorry for your loss."

Sara spoke up after a pause. "Mr. Jackson, were you aware Mrs. Sanders was married?"

Richard nodded once.

"And that she had children?" She continued.

He nodded again.

"Did you ever meet any of them?"

"I wouldn't know. She never told me their names… said what they looked like."

"Did she ever meet your kids?" Warrick asked, frowning slightly at the last bit of information.

Richard shook his head. "I told her about them though, and them about her. They always wanted to meet her… but I guess…"

"Mr. Jackson, did your children know that Mrs. Sanders was married?" Sara asked, taking in the room around them.

Jackson paused before answering. "No…"

"Did you ever ask why she didn't talk about her own children?" Warrick inquired, something in the back of his mind nagging at him that things weren't quite right.

Jackson shook his head and shrugged. "Not really… I… they didn't seem very important really. It was just about us, all the time."

"Did she love you?" Sara asked simply.

The man flinched slightly at her bluntness, but replied firmly all the same. "Yes."

"You're sure?" She pushed.

"Yes."

Sara frowned, and opened her mouth to ask another question when Warrick's cell phone ringing cut her off. "Sorry." He apologised, pulling it out of his pocket. "Excuse me a second." He hung up a moment later and turned to Sara. "We gotta get back. Mr. Jackson, thank you very much for seeing us. I'm gonna have to ask you don't go away anywhere until we come and speak to you again, we're going to have to ask you some further questions."

Richard nodded and stood up as they did, leading them to the door. "Okay."

"We're sorry again." Sara repeated. "For your loss."

Richard nodded as the walked out of his house. "Yes. Thank you."

~~

Greg yawned and sighed as he walked into his kitchen, throwing his car keys down onto the counter. "Been here long?" He asked dryly, not bothering to turn around.

The figure sat at the table behind him crossed its legs. "Not really."

"You're not due here until Saturday." Greg asked, reaching up into one of his cupboards and pulling out a glass.

"Nice to see you too."

Greg turned around and raised an eyebrow at the comment, taking in his older sister's appearance for the first time in five years.

"It's rude to stare Gregory." Carrie stated, watching his movements.

Greg resisted the urge to flinch at her tone. "You are so much like her, you realise that?"

Carrie raised an eyebrow. "I'm her protégée."

"How'd she manage that? The two of you have had about four conversations in all your twenty-nine years."

Carrie shrugged. "So we lacked common ground. She was a talented woman." She replied.

"Yeah. No shit." Greg snorted, turning away from her and returning to making his drink.

"So…" Carrie began expectantly, sitting forward in the chair. "How are you?"

"Don't start this Caroline."

"It was a perfectly legitimate question Gregory." Carrie asked, her tone now harder than it had been earlier.

Greg sighed and turned round to face her. "Why are you here?"

Carrie's face fell into a frown of disparagement. "I really despair with you Gregory. Our mother's dead. Why do you think?"

"You're not due here until Saturday." He repeated for the second time.

Carrie crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look, sitting back in the chair, her demeanour changed. "I'm here, to fix your mistake."

Greg scowled. "Funny that. Last time I checked that was Timothy's job."

"Timothy has his hands full."

Greg narrowed his eyes at her. "With what?"

 "Your little sister." Carrie replied evenly.

"She's your little sister too."

Carrie remained unchanged, staring her younger brother down, knowing it was only a matter of time before he broke.

"Stop it." He said firmly refusing to break her gaze. "I hate you, you know that?" He continued when she didn't reply, turning away.

"Nothing like honesty. Though I don't think it would do much for your case." She told him.

"Get out of my home Caroline."

"I'm not going anywhere until we unscrew what you screwed up."

Greg turned back to her scowling. "What **I** screwed up?"

"Don't start Gregory. You know very well what I'm talking about."

"Don't talk like Mom Caroline, you're not her."

"Thank the good Lord." Carrie's voice was even, and firm.

Greg sighed. She was impossible; utterly convinced she was superior to those around her since she was thirteen. "Aren't you even a tiny bit upset?"

"No. Are you?" She replied shortly. A smirk played across her lips when he didn't reply. "You were always trying to be something you weren't Gregory—"

"And this is you?" He asked incredulously.

"Then of course, you wouldn't be upset… would you?" She continued, ignoring his interruption.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know very well." She replied, looking at her watch. "Come on. We're going out."

"Excuse me?" Greg asked, anger still evident in his voice.

"We're going to breakfast." She told him, standing up and taking her coat off the back of her chair.

"I work night shift Caroline. I'm tired, I'm going to bed." He replied, shaking his head and walking past her towards his bedroom.

She grabbed his arm firmly as he passed. "We're going to breakfast Gregory." She said firmly in his ear. "Get your coat, get your shoes, and let's go."

Greg remained still for a moment, his face stony before turning back around and following her instructions.


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Please review! Cheers =D

"So do you think he's got anything to do with it?" Warrick asked, blowing on his cup of coffee to try and cool it.

"Hmm?" Sara asked, looking up from her own cup.

"Jackson… Richard Jackson? The guy having the affair with Greg's mom… Do you reckon he had anything to do with it?" He repeated for her.

"Oh… I dunno." She replied, frowning slightly.

Warrick sipped his coffee and leant back against his seat in their booth at one of their local all night diners. "What're you thinking?" He inquired, knowing that Sara was sure to be working away at the case in her head.

She shook her head. "All I can think is what if Greg did it?" She said, frowning again.

Warrick took another sip of his coffee. "We've got no proof that he was there. I'm sure he's got nothing to do with it."

Sara looked unconvinced. "The only proof we've got that _anyone_ else was there is the fact that she's dead." She told him. "For all we know Greg is the other person."

It was Warrick's turn to frown this time. "Come on Sara. How long have we known the guy? You really think he's capable of killing someone?"

"How well do you really know people though Warrick?"

Warrick looked somewhat disgruntled and sipped again on his coffee, averting his eyes to look out the window, remaining silent.

Sara sighed. "I really don't think we should be working this case."

Warrick raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because one of the main suspects is someone we've known for a good four or five years." Warrick looked unconvinced. "You're really telling me that if the evidence pointed to Greg you'd be able to continue as though it was another faceless killer?" She continued. "God knows what we'd do…" She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers and thumb.

Warrick finished his coffee and sighed, opening his mouth to speak when he stopped. Sara looked up at him, confused. "What?" She asked, twisting around to see what he was looking at. "What is it?"

"Greg." Warrick replied.

"Shit." Sara mumbled, seeing the blonde lab tech staring at whoever was sat opposite him in his own booth. "We'd better go."

Warrick nodded wearily. "I'll get this." He told her, pulling a few bills out of his pocket and placing them on the table. "Who do you reckon he's with?" He murmured to Sara as they headed towards the exit.

She shrugged in reply. "No idea." She smiled as they passed. "Hey Greg."

He looked up surprised to see them, quickly throwing an angry glance at the other person, before smiling. "Hey Sara, hey Warrick. You guys just get off shift?"

"Yeah. Headed home for some r n r man. You should do the same." Warrick replied.

Greg nodded. "Trust me, that's what I'm doing straight after this." He said, waving them off as they left.

Sara threw a quick glance behind as they walked out of the diner, trying to catch a glimpse of Greg's companion, but only seeing him say something to them in what seemed to be anger. She frowned and shrugged it off, Greg was allowed to go and have breakfast with his friends.

~~

"What the _fuck _Caroline?" Greg hissed at his older sister.

She sipped her tea, concentrating on the newspaper on the table. "Watch your mouth." She said simply.

Greg growled, sitting back angrily in his seat. "Oh my God. I'm not eleven anymore Caroline, okay? We're both god damn adults so stop treating me as though I'm a child." He said angrily.

Caroline raised an amused eyebrow at him but said nothing.

"Well _they've_ got a lot of faith in you."

Greg looked up to see Marie standing beside their booth, his older brother Tim behind her. "Marie." He stated.

Marie raised her eyebrows waiting for him to finish. "Yes." She replied, her tone the same as his.

He frowned slightly, moving over as he caught Tim's look so that she could sit beside him.

"Well isn't this a pleasant little family reunion." Tim commented dryly, taking a seat next to Carrie.

Carrie frowned disapprovingly but said nothing.

"They're concerned you did it." Tim told Greg after a moment.

Marie turned to look at the younger of her two brothers, studying his reaction.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Did you do it?" She asked him, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Marie." Tim said in warning.

"No I didn't do it!" Greg told her indignantly. "Did you?" He asked in return, his voice still angry.

"Blood from my period freaks me out, you really think I could kill someone?" Marie asked him bluntly.

Greg shuddered. "That is so disgusting."

"It's the truth." Marie told him firmly.

"Gregory." Tim's voice broke through their argument. "They're concerned you did it."

Greg shrugged. "You said that already. What do you want me to do about it?"

Tim smiled. "So you're going to be cooperative?"

Greg narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Do you know who did this?"

Tim's face remained unchanged. "Answer the question Gregory."

Greg's face slowly turned to one of shock. "You know who did this." His voice accused.

"Gregory." Carrie looked up from her newspaper.

"Holy shit." Greg breathed. "Do you all know?"

Marie rolled her eyes. "You're so god damn melodramatic."

"Gregory, do you really think we know who killed Mom?" Tim asked him, eyebrows rose expectantly.

Greg stared at his siblings, searching his mind for an answer to Tim's question, but was unable to come up with one.

Carrie frowned at her younger brother. "Gregory, try not to be so rash when jumping to conclusions. It could get you into a lot of trouble."

Greg narrowed his eyes at his older sister. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Carrie put down her tea and sighed impatiently. "What do you think it means Gregory? You work at the crime lab that's investigating our mother's murder. All four of us are suspects, and if you walk around saying stupid things like that then you're going to end up screwing things up more than you already have."

"I haven't screwed anything up." Greg replied angrily.

Marie snorted, laughing into her cup of hot chocolate. "How many times have we heard _that_ one?"

"This is ridiculous." Greg scowled, standing up. "Marie, move."

Marie looked up at him, catching a look from her eldest brother first and remaining seated. "You didn't say please." She told him, smirking.

Greg opened his mouth to reply, but instead climbed over the seat and headed for the exit.

"Be at the house tomorrow at four Gregory. We're going over the will." Tim called out as his younger brother left.

Greg spun round on his heel. "The house is a god damn crime scene Timothy. We can't go to the—" He stopped short, catching his brothers look, then he scowled angrily, turning on his heel and leaving the diner.

"He doesn't understand." Carrie said, after a moment, her attention back on her newspaper.

Marie snorted. "No shit."


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews! I really appreciate them so much, keep them coming!

Grissom raised an eyebrow as Brass slapped a folded piece of paper onto his desk. "What's this?" Grissom asked, despite knowing the answer.

"Guess." Came the reply.

Grissom picked up the warrant and began to read through it. Brass spoke as he did so. "Suspect Gregory Sanders was seen conferring with the three other prime suspects this morning at 0800 hours. They were heard discussing the events by two police officers."

Grissom frowned. "It's their mother. They're allowed to talk about it."

Brass nodded. "But they're not allowed to discuss it."

"There's such a huge difference." Grissom replied dryly.

Brass smiled and took a seat opposite the other man. "You know there is."

Grissom sighed and nodded. "True." He paused. "His shift starts in twenty minutes."

Brass made a face of acknowledgement and made him self comfortable. "So who do you think did it?" He asked.

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "I don't know." He replied evenly.

Brass smirked. "Who are you thinking though?"

"I'll let you know when we identify the print from the cell phone."

Brass pouted. "You're no fun."

"It's one of our own." Grissom replied immediately.

"One of _your_ own." Brass told him.

Grissom looked unimpressed, and Brass shrugged. "I stepped out of your chair a long time ago."

"Stepped?"

"That was harsh."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

--

"They're printing him today."

Catherine looked up as Nick walked into the break room, a tense look on his face. She sighed and sat up, folding her newspaper and leaving it in her lap. "Are you okay?" She asked, knowing full well that the entire situation had Nick stressed.

He looked over at her from the coffee pot. "Oh yeah, I'm great." He told her. "Just fine."

Catherine bit her lip. "I don't think you need any more caffeine Nick."

Nick turned and glared at her, but put down the coffee pot and began to pace. "They can't do this. I mean, come on… it's Greg."

"He's a suspect." Catherine reminded him.

"Why? We have no proof he was ever there! I processed the crime scene Catherine; nowhere in my report did I state that further investigation of Greg Sanders should take place. And neither did Sara." He added on the end before Catherine could reply.

"You know it's not us who makes that decision Nick."

"Well it should be." He shot back.

"If he's innocent the evidence will prove it. You know that."

"What do you mean _if _he's innocent Catherine, of course he's innocent. He's Greg."

Catherine sighed. "Sure Nick."

--

"You touch me again and there are going to be consequences." Carrie said firmly, as the police officer approached her again, trying to make sure that her prints were recorded correctly on the sheet.

"Ms. Sanders, may I remind you it is a criminal offence to threaten a police officer." Brass stated simply from where he stood across the room.

"May I remind you, sir, that repeated unnecessary contact is also a criminal offence, and self defence, is not." Carrie replied evenly, her eyes locked on his.

Brass shifted but bit his tongue. He wasn't going to get into this now. The police officer stepped forwards and removed the piece of paper from the table once Carrie's prints had been recorded and filed it in an envelope before handing it to Brass. "Thank you very much for your cooperation Ms. Sanders. I'm sure we'll be speaking shortly."

Carrie raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

"Well?" Tim asked, standing up as his sister stepped into the hall.

Carrie made a face, ignoring his question. "Where's Marie?"

"Mr. Timothy Sanders." The police officer said sticking his head out into the hall.

Tim gave his sister a pointed look before following the uniformed man into the room.

"Mr. Sanders." Brass said as he entered.

Tim nodded. "Afternoon." He replied.

"Can you give me your left hand please sir?" The police officer asked, standing across from Tim.

Tim held his hand towards the man. "You do realise this is unnecessary? I'm military, everything's on file."

Brass shifted uncomfortably. "The military are being uncooperative."

"Because you're bothering an innocent family, and one of their men. They're like that." Tim told him.

"So I've learned." Brass mumbled in reply, reading over the Carrie's paper in his hand. The three men looked up at the knock on the door.

"Brass." Warrick said, sticking his head round the corner.

"What is it?" Brass asked, walking over towards the door.

Warrick's eyes met Tim's and he turned slightly so that his back was to him. "Jackson's dead."

"The affair guy?"

Warrick nodded.

"Okay. Give me five minutes."

Warrick nodded again, stepping out of the room and waiting for Brass in the corridor. A few minutes later, Tim emerged, Brass and the police officer following. "You ready?" Warrick questioned.

"Let's go." Brass replied, leading the way to the exit.

Carrie stood up. "What's going on?"

"Richard Jackson's dead." Tim replied simply.

"Where are Gregory and Marie?" Carrie asked.

"Exactly."


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: Okay, so I lost the plan for this thing and it gets all muddled in my head without haha! So that's why there have been so few updates. Now I've found it hopefully I'll be able to round it up purdy soon! Please review and let me know how I'm doing! Thankies =D

Standard disclaimer applies, I don't own anyone except for Greg's family, and that now includes Greg too cos I bought him off ebay and now he's mine!!! Mwahahahahahaha! And I can do with him whatever I please evil grin… okay yeah no not really

-

Greg raised an eyebrow at his younger sisters entrance. Marie's face was a mixture of panic, anger and fear as she flew through the front door and slammed it shut behind her. He narrowed his eyes, watching her, and she jumped when she finally saw him stood in the hallway, part hidden by the shadows, before regaining her composure.

"Fuck you." She spat at him, before he could say anything, stalking past him towards the kitchen. "Where are the other two?"

Greg shrugged, following her. "Not here."

"No shit." Marie shot back immediately, walking to the far side of the kitchen and washing her hands in the sink.

"Why are you so edgy?" Greg asked her, his tone casual.

"I'm not edgy." She replied, her teeth gritted as she dried her hands. She stared at her brother for a moment holding his gaze trying to keep the emotion off of her face.

Greg knew that look, had known it for years, and could think of nothing that would make him forget. "What have you done?" He asked slowly, eyeing her conspicuously.

For a moment Marie seemed to freeze, her mouth slightly open and her eyes locked with his. Then she scowled. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Sure," Greg began. "That's why you're looking like you just—"

"Marie?"

The two siblings jumped at the stern voice of their father and Greg's eyes widened as he stared at his sister's now panic stricken face. "Marie, what did you do?" He asked her, his voice slightly fearful.

"Nothing." She replied, barely whispering. "Nothing." She repeated, shaking her head. "I didn't do anything."

"Marie." The voice said again, quieter, calmer and closer. Greg turned around and backed up against the kitchen counter to let his father pass.

Marie inhaled sharply, preparing herself for what was next. "Yes?" She asked, cocky as ever, her previous state of mind hidden.

"I can't help but notice that Richard Jackson's dead." William Sanders said evenly, staring down at his youngest daughter.

"Who?" Marie asked, her voice laced with arrogance.

"You know very well who." William replied, his tone unchanged.

Greg watched the scene unfold, gripping his coffee mug tightly.  "Richard Jackson?" He murmured to himself, searching his mind for a face to match the name.

William turned and for the first time noticed his youngest son. "Well," He gave Greg and empty smile. "If it isn't the black sheep."

"Who's Richard Jackson?" He asked, ignoring his fathers comment.

"Don't act like you don't know." The three turned to see Tim stood in the doorway, Carrie behind him in the hall talking on her cell phone.

"Well look at this, we're a family again." William stated, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Actually, I don't know." Greg told his older brother, ignoring his father again. "I'm not in on your little psycho family circle."

Carrie rolled her eyes as she walked into the kitchen and placed her bag and cell phone down on the table. "Do you always have to be so melodramatic?" She asked, turning to face him.

"I am not being melodramatic." Greg began, trying to remain calm. "Someone murdered Mom, and now this Richard Jackson guy, I think our current situation permits for us to be a little bit concerned and stressed out."

"Just like old times." William commented to himself as the argument began to build.

"Richard Jackson." Tim said loudly, before his siblings bickering could progress. "Was a good friend of Mom's."

Marie snorted. "Pssh, you say good friend, I say—"

She stopped short as her father rounded on her. "So you do know. There's a surprise." He said sarcastically, advancing towards her.

"Dad." Tim said firmly. William stopped and turned to face his eldest son.

"Yes?"

"Enough."

The five of them stopped and the house was silent, save for the clocks ticking.

"This is gonna be simple." Carrie said suddenly, pulling some files out of her bag. "You all sign a piece of paper and then you all go home. Everything's been left to Greg, all he has to do is decide what to do with it."

Greg looked at Carrie alarmed, as Marie and William stared at him in disbelief. "What?" He asked.

Tim mumbled something under his breath, his brow furrowed, clearly unimpressed with this new information.

Marie raised an eyebrow and looked at her sister. "What?" She repeated Greg's question, almost angry. "Everything?"

Carrie rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. "Yes. Everything. Every last little piece of crap Mom ever bought or borrowed or stole, is now Greg's."

"I don't want it---"

"Let me see that." William said, holding his hand out and striding forwards.

"Too bad and no." She answered her brother and father. "Sign the papers, so I can go the hell home." She said, emotion finally beginning to come through.

"Greg get's everything?" Marie repeated. "**Greg**."

"Yes, Marie." Carrie spat. "**Greg**. Now just sign the god damned papers."

Marie swallowed then snatched the pen off of her sister, signing the sheets that were handed to her. "I'm gone." She said once she was done, stalking past Greg and Tim out of the kitchen and out of the house.

Greg stood back and watched, waiting as his brother and father signed the papers and left, leaving just him and Carrie. He stared at her, slightly fearful and swallowed. "Tell me you're lying." He said, his voice softer than he wanted it to be.

Carrie shook her head. "What would I gain from that?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Greg stared at her, waiting for an explanation of some sort.

Carrie sighed. "Just sign the papers Greg." She said, her voice tired. "I don't wanna be here anymore than you do. So just sign them and we can both go."

Greg laughed and shook his head. "No." He told her. "You can go. I, I can't. I'm **stuck** here Carrie. I'm stuck here, and **now **thanks to you. Or thanks to Mom, or **whoever** it was. I'm gonna die here too."

Carrie swallowed, but her face remained unchanged. "Sign the papers Greg."

"And you don't even care." He said, walking towards her, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm you're little brother and I'm gonna die and you don't even care."

"I have other brothers." Came Carrie's response.

Greg put the pen down after signing and looked at her. He scowled at her and opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him before he had the chance.

"You don't have time." She told him, quietly packing up her things.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to let any of his tears fall. "I hate you." He told her, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've always hated you. More than I ever hated them. More than I ever hated her. More than I ever hated this. I hate you."

"I won't be going to hers, but I'll come to yours." Carrie told him softly. "I'll be back Saturday."

Greg's eyes widened, as he remembered a conversation he'd overheard between Brass and Grissom. "You knew." He accused her, his voice watery. "You knew right from the start."

Carrie nodded once. "Sorry little brother."

"I don't want to die." He told her as a stray tear escaped down his cheek. Carrie gave him a genuine look of sympathy, but said nothing. "They'll find out. I'll tell them, I'll tell them everything." He warned.

"But they can't prove it." She told him gently. "And would they really believe it?"

Greg could come up with no response, and he wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to hide the tears that were falling. Carrie stepped forwards and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I'll cry at your funeral too. How's that?"


	11. Chapter Eleven

A/N: Sorry this update took so long, I'm a retard and have lost the plan more times than I've had hot dinners! And cos I'm also a moron I get confused without it haha. But I think I know what's going on now, with or without the plan so hopefully it won't take too long (or at least this long) again! Anyhoo please rnr and let me know if this was okay? I've not written CSI in a while, I'm worried I've forgotten how to do it :S haha. Yeah so… anyway… enjoy :D

-

"Hey, Greg I…" Warrick trailed off as the lab technician walked briskly past him, ignoring his presence entirely.

A minute later the younger man was back, looking flustered. "Where's Grissom?" He asked.

Warrick stared at him confused, before answering. "Greg," He asked slowly. "Are you—?"

"Where's Grissom?" He asked again more urgently. "Warrick, **please**, I need to know where he is."

"He's gone to a conference in Idaho, he couldn't get out of it."

Greg seemed to choke on the words. "I—Idaho? **Idaho**?"

"Greg, what's going on?"

"Who goes to **Idaho** in the middle of a case?" Greg asked, his eyes darting back and forth desperately.

"Grissom does. Greg, are you okay? You look like you're about to have an aneurysm."

"When does he get back?"

"Monday."

"Monday." Greg repeated to himself. "Monday's too late." He hung his head for a moment before looking back up at the larger man. "Thanks Warrick." He said softly, before walking towards the exit of the building.

Warrick stared after the blonde confused. "Hey Nick." He grabbed the Texan's arm as he passed in the opposite direction.

Nick looked up from the papers in his hand. "Yeah?"

"You notice anything weird with Greg lately?"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Since when has the guy ever been normal?"

"No seriously man, he just came in here looking for Grissom, he looked like he was gonna cry when I said he wasn't here."

Nick shrugged. "The guy did have his mom murdered the other day."

"I guess, but I dunno man, I think it's something else."

"You think he's alright?"

Warrick shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"You want me to go find out?" Nick suggested, growing concern at his colleague's obvious worry for the lab technician.

Warrick paused a minute. "I dunno, maybe it is just his Mom, you know him better than I do. Just check on him yeah?"

Nick nodded. "Okay, yeah sure. I gotta break in twenty, I'll do it then."

"Hey Catherine, you seen Greg?" Nick asked twenty minutes later, sticking his round the corner to one of the labs where the blonde was working.

"No sorry Nick, I think he left early, said he wasn't feeling well." Catherine replied, turning her attention back to her magazine.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing? I'm not sure Grissom would be too impressed with his temporary replacement if all she's doing is reading Vogue the whole shift."

"Funny Stokes." Catherine replied dryly, sitting up properly in her chair. "I'm waiting to see if I can get a match on the print from Jane Sanders' cell phone." She told him gesturing to the computer on the table beside her.

Nick nodded. "That still all we got?" He asked in his southern drawl.

"That's still all we got." Catherine replied, mimicking him, returning to her magazine. She looked up as the machine started to beep. "Until now." She said sat up straight, pulling herself towards the desk.

"It's got a match?"

"Uh huh, a…" Catherine trailed off as she read the name on the screen.

"What is it?" Nick asked, concerned by her reaction. His mouth dropped slightly as he read the name. "I'm gonna go find Greg."

Nick knocked tentatively on his friend's front door, noticing the painful absence of his gun from his holster. It had been missing from his locker when he'd gone to collect his things after speaking to Catherine. He could count the people who could figure out his code on one hand, three were in Texas and one was in Idaho. Somehow he didn't think that bared all that well for the future.

"Greg?" He asked slowly. "Greg buddy, you in there?" The knot of worry in his stomach was tightening and he pulled out his cell phone in an effort to calm himself a bit.

If I don't call in ten minutes. Come to Greg's. 911 – Ask Catherine

He sent the text message to Sarah and Warrick, Catherine already knowing where he was, and hoped that there wouldn't be any need for them to come. A moment later he frowned. Of course there wouldn't. Greg was probably just feeling run down after everything that happened during the week. And he'd probably just misplaced his gun, Nick told himself. He shook his head at his own nerves, feeling slightly stupid but still unable to completely remove the feeling of worry that hung over him. He knocked again.

"Greg? Anybody alive in there?" He joked. He paused before trying the door handle. "Okay man, I'm coming in. You better be wearing something."

Slowly Nick opened the door, frowning as it stuck. "What the hell…" He mumbled to himself, seeing some obstruction as he pushed. He frowned at the makeshift wedge that had been shoved under the door to stop it from opening. Bending down he pulled it out, stumbling slightly as the door came free and he half fell, half walked into the room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard an all too familiar clicking sound.

"Don't move Nick." Greg's voice was thick with panic.

Nick's mind was suddenly going a mile a minute, as he debated whether or not to stand up from his rather awkward position in the doorway. "Greg? Man, just calm down okay? It's me, it's Nick, just put the gun down." Nick tried to soothe his friend; unable to see him from the way he was standing.

"What are you doing here Nick?" Greg asked, his voice shaky.

"I came to check if you were okay. Warrick said you looked pretty shaken earlier, about Grissom." Nick told the younger man slowly.

"I think you need to leave." Greg told the Texan, his voice going quiet.

Nick took the softness of Greg's voice as a good sign and used the opportunity to stand back up to his full height. He jumped as he came face to face with the barrel of his own gun.


	12. Chapter Twelve

A/N: erm... please read and review :D and thankies to all those who have already. tis much appreciated. cheers m' dears

Disclaimer: don't own them (sob)

--

"I said… I think you need to leave." Greg's tone had changed to one Nick couldn't quite understand. The panic and desperation in the younger man's eyes was clear, but there was an edge to his voice Nick couldn't quite place.

"Greg—"

"Nick."

The Texan swallowed. This was not supposed to be happening. It was evident that Greg thought the same thing from the look on his face and for a moment the two men stood there, silently staring at one another, before "Shit man." Greg lowered the gun and Nick let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "I'm sorry." Greg said quietly, walking away from Nick and sitting down heavily on his couch.

Nick eyed him tentatively, but relaxed considerably. "I'm gonna try and forget you just held my own gun in my face for a minute, and ask you if you're okay as though I just walked in here and found you sitting there."

Greg didn't reply, his head resting heavily in his hands as he leant over on his knees.

"Greg?"

"I really think you should just go Nick." The blonde mumbled eventually.

Nick paused before replying. "Greg… what is going on?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter, it's too late now anyway."

"Too late for what?" Nick pressed.

"Just leave Nick."

"Greg… we got a match on the foreign prints on your mom's cell phone, and I know you know who's they are, something's going on. You've stolen my gun for God's sake and you're sat there looking like you're about to shit yourself. If you need help tell me. I can help."

Greg looked up at the Texan, giving him an empty stare. "No you can't." He said, sounding defeated, before returning his gaze to the floor. Nick opened his mouth to reply but Greg started talking again. "It's my mom's funeral tomorrow."

Nick bit his lip, unsure of what to say, flinching slightly as Greg rubbed his temples, gun still in hand. "Nick you really need to get out of here?"

"If I'm going anywhere, you're coming with me man. You're a mess. Whatever the problem is, we can sort it." Nick told him, pulling out his cell phone to call Warrick.

"Too late for that." Nick turned at the new voice behind him, barely having time to acknowledge who was standing there before something hit him round the head and everything went black.

Greg stood up wide-eyed. "Marie!" He screeched, as his younger sister stood there wielding a baseball bat, his fallen co-worker at her feet.

"What?" She asked, arrogant as ever.

"What?! What do you mean what?!" Greg's voice was high and thick with panic.

Marie rolled her eyes. "Always with the melodrama."

"Melodrama?" Greg spat, waving his arms about wildly, forgetting the gun in his hand. "**Melodrama**?" He repeated again. "I bet you've fucking killed him."

"Aww, is Greg's boyfriend dead?" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, and belied the nervousness in her eyes upon noticing Greg's gun.

Greg glared angrily at her. "You better hope he's not."

"So he is your boyfriend then?" Marie laughed.

"Shut up Marie." The woman's demeanour sobered immediately with her brother's change of tone.

She raised an eyebrow and recomposed herself. "You and I have something to discuss."

Greg suddenly remembered the gun in his hand and raised it towards her. "Do we?"

Marie ran her tongue over the front of her teeth, watching as the gun pointed towards her across the room. "You don't have the balls."

Greg cocked the gun in response.

"Go ahead." His sister's arrogance covered her fear well, years of practice coming into play.

"Gladly." Greg replied but did nothing, a groan from the floor distracting them both.

Marie took her chance and stepped forwards, placing her stiletto boots on Nick's throat as he rolled over onto his back and holding her baseball bat as though it were a golf club above his head. "Give me the gun Greg." She asked pleasantly.

"You wouldn't dare." The confidence of Greg's statement was weakened by the fear in his voice, as he watched Nick's face begin to comprehend the danger he was in.

"Wouldn't I?" Marie snapped suddenly, her voice angry and her eyes blazing as she grew more and more impatient with the unfolding situation. "Give. Me. The. Gun."

Greg looked from Nick to his sister, before dropping his hand holding the gun down to his side in defeat.

"I said give it to me." Marie snapped.

Greg reluctantly handed over the weapon watching as in return she stepped off Nick. "You alright?" Greg mumbled, helping Nick to his feet.

Nick looked warily from Greg to Marie. "She killed your Mom." He said quietly.

Greg nodded. "I know… but the print won't prove it."

"How do you know she did it?" Nick asked.

Marie rolled her eyes, back to her arrogant self. "Blah blah blah. Because he didn't have the balls to do it himself." She told the Texan, surveying the room. Her eyes flitted back to Nick, and her lips opened in a grin. "You're the guy from CSI." She stated.

Nick nodded.

"Give me your gun."

"You're holding it."

Marie raised an eyebrow and looked to Greg who nodded to confirm the story. "You're an idiot." She said. Neither man was sure who she was talking to. "And you've just made my life a whole lot more difficult."

Nick risked a glance to Greg and didn't think what he saw held any bright promise for their future. "Miss. Sanders" He began.

"No Nick, don't, shut up." Greg mumbled quietly behind him.

"Yes?" Marie asked.

"Miss." Nick began again. "Why don't you give me the gun, and we can sort this whole thing out."

Marie turned her attention to her brother. "Greg."

"Yes?"

"Get in my car."

Greg hesitated. "Why?"

Marie's face turned cold. "Get. In. The. Car."

Greg nodded slightly and made to move past Nick, but the Texan's arm stopped him. "No." Nick said quietly. "Marie? Why don't we just talk about this, no one needs to go anywhere."

"Nick." Greg began again. "Nick please, just leave her, let her—"

"**Greg**." Marie's voice was sharp.

"Marie? Now listen to me, why don't we just cal—"

"No. You listen to me. Everything would have been perfect tonight, if **you** hadn't turned up here." She glared at the southerner, her voice slightly higher than normal. "So don't tell me to calm down, because my flawless plan just went to shit."

"You're plan to what?" Nick asked her, doing his best to gain some control of the situation.

"I don't see what that has to do with you."

Nick opened his mouth to reply but a noise interrupted him. There was a change in Marie's demeanour that Nick couldn't place. "What's that?" She asked.

He shifted awkwardly as his cell phone continued to ring.

"Well?" Marie asked.

"My cell." Nick told her.

Her face turned blank. "Greg, get in the car."

Greg left the room before Nick could stop him. "What are you gonna do?"

"Answer it." Was Marie's reply.

Nick did as instructed, Sarah's voice filling his ears as he did so. "Nick? What's going on? Why haven't you called?"

Nick glanced at Marie who nodded at him. "Oh uh… hey hon." Nick started. "What?" He asked, ignoring Sarah's confused questioning on the end of the line. "I'll be home 'bout ten, ten t' eight… okay, I'll see you then." He hung hoping the message had gotten through.

"That was pretty smart." Marie commented. "But I still have to kill you."

Nick seemed to choke on the air as she pointed his gun back at him. "Excuse me?"

"You know what's going on, and you know that I'm about to kill Greg, and I can't have people knowing that, it ruins things."

"You're gonna kill Greg?" Nick asked, suddenly feeling light headed, how did he always manage to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun?

"Yes." Marie nodded.

"Why?" Nick asked, hoping he could keep her talking long enough for Sarah and the others to get here.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Marie smiled as she cocked the gun.

-

Outside Greg jumped as the sound of a shot fired went off.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I love them D …cough

_-_

"Greg!"

The lab tech jumped again as Warrick ran towards him. Greg's eyes opened even wider with surprise as the CSI approached him. "W-Warrick?" He stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I'd like to know. What the hell is going on Greg? Where's Nick?"

Greg was blank faced and remained silent. They both jumped as another gunshot went off.

"What the hell?" Warrick muttered, immediately drawing his own gun. "Who's in there? Where's Nick?"

Greg averted his eyes.

"Damn it. What the hell is going on?" Warrick muttered to himself. "Call Brass, tell him to hurry up!" He instructed, handing Greg his phone before heading towards the house.

"Warrick…" Greg began.

The older man glanced back at him.

"Don't." Greg said, almost whispering.

"What?"

"Don't." Greg repeated.

"Greg what in the hell is going on?—" A third gunshot cut him off and he abandoned the conversation, carefully making his way inside.

Greg watched solemnly, turning to see another car pull into his drive way.

"You should have tried harder Gregory."

Greg didn't look at his brother as he approached.

"This is going to be difficult." Carrie added, joining her two brothers where they stood.

"It was always going to be difficult." Tim spoke, placing a hand on Greg's shoulder.

He tried to shrug it off but Tim's grip was firm. "I'm not twelve anymore."

Tim dug his fingers angrily into Greg's shoulder, ignoring his brother's flinching. "Which is exactly why you have no excuse for this mess." He pushed him towards the door of the house. "Move."

"Marie." Tim's voice held little surprise as he entered the house to see Marie held at gunpoint by both Nick and Warrick.

The youngest of the Sander's children, turned slowly to the voice, anger evident. "What?" She spat. "I'm busy."

Warrick looked towards them. "Okay, all of you hands up."

Nick motioned for Marie to join her siblings. "Don't move." He glanced at Warrick. "How long until Brass gets here?"

Warrick's eyes didn't leave the family in front of him. "I don't know. Not long. Sarah phoned pretty much everyone after your phone call."

Marie narrowed her eyes at the Texan. "For god's sake." She muttered.

"Hey!" Warrick shouted as she began to walk towards the kitchen. "Damn it I said don't move."

Marie turned to face him. "You're not going to shoot me."

"Don't tempt me." Warrick warned, his gun still trained on the woman.

"Enough." Tim interrupted, taking control and pushing Greg towards the couch.

"Don't move!" Nick shouted at him.

Tim confidently squared up to the Texan. "You're not going to shoot me. You're not going to shoot anyone."

"Watch me." Nick warned.

"Nick!" Greg's shout after the gunshot drew his attention away from the man in front of him. "Nick!" Greg repeated again, his voice thick with panic.

Nick looked at the younger man then down at his shoulder, realising that the shot hadn't come from his gun, but someone else's.

"What the hell is going on?" Carrie questioned, stepping into view, gun in hand.

"I was trying to clean up this mess." Marie replied, turning to her sister.

"Looks to me as though you're just making it worse."

"It's not my fault Greg has friends." She spat.

Greg didn't look up from where he was next to Nick, applying pressure to the criminalist's wound. "You." Carrie turned her attention to Warrick, who was desperately trying to keep control of the situation. "Put your gun down."

Warrick paused before lowering his gun slowly, and moved towards his two colleagues.

Tim turned his attention to Warrick. "More of you on the way?"

He nodded.

Tim growled, "This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous."

"You take Greg and Marie. I'll deal with these two." Carrie instructed.

Tim nodded and grabbed Marie by the arm, handing the gun to her older sister. "Go." He pushed her towards the door. "Greg." He summoned, as he and Marie headed outside.

Greg paused, then followed numbly. He paused as he passed Carrie. "You have no idea how much I loathe you."

"I'm the only one who ever loved you." Was Carrie's response.

"I hate you for it." Greg replied quietly.

Nick and Warrick watched confused. "Wait a minute." Warrick began as Greg reached the door. "Greg, come back."

Greg didn't stop, and Warrick turned his attention to Carrie. She gave him a thin smile, as she checked the gun. "I'm sorry about this. It's so embarrassing having people see our family feuds." She levelled her gun at them, and tilted her head, as though deciding what to do next.

"Can you really call yourselves a family?" Nick questioned, grimacing in pain, desperate to keep her talking long enough.

Carrie lowered the gun, a new emotion in her eyes. Warrick bit his lip, not convinced Nick had said the right thing. "I suppose it was _Greg _who said that we weren't?"

Nick nodded, gritting his teeth as Warrick applied pressure to his wound. "So?"

"So he's full of shit." Carrie spat back immediately. She paused and regained her composure. "We were a family… he wasn't, but we were."

"What?" Warrick questioned, his eyes watching the gun, trying not to cringe as Nick's blood soaked his hands.

"He just didn't fit, through his own stubbornness. There was no other reason. He just didn't want to."

"So then what the hell is going on?" Warrick questioned. "If he doesn't fit, why has he been dragged into this soap opera drama you guys have got going on?"

"Soap opera drama?" Carrie questioned, narrowing her eyes at the Texan. "You clearly haven't heard the full story. At all." Her words were spiked with anger. "He may not have wanted to be a part of our family, but he is. And he has responsibilities. If he had done what he was supposed to do, none of this would have happened."

"And what exactly were those responsibilities?" Nick questioned again.

Carrie narrowed her eyes at him. "Marie is sick." She said slowly. "She's always been sick."

"What does that have to do with Greg?" Warrick questioned.

Carrie regarded him for a moment, before looking at her watch. "He was supposed to watch for her. Watch if she ever came back. He knew perfectly well she was in Vegas. Knew for ages that she was coming here. But… he chose to ignore it, ignore her and what she was sure to do."

"Why did she kill your mother?"

Carrie's look bore into Nick's eyes and he shifted uncomfortably. "Because she's sick."

"Sick with what?" Warrick questioned.

"Enough questions." Carrie raised her gun and aimed.

"My sentiments exactly."

"Catherine?" Warrick spluttered out.

The blonde CSI was stood in the doorway, gun aimed at Carrie, her body language clearly reading she was pissed off.

"Damn it Catherine." Brass appeared a moment later, clearly unimpressed with her not waiting for him and other officers. "Ms. Sanders, you are under arrest."

Carrie turned to face them. "For what?"

Brass shrugged. "I dunno, how about shooting a member of law enforcement, false imprisonment, conspiracy for murder, the list goes on and on."

Carrie raised an eyebrow. "I've committed none of those crimes."

Catherine laughed. "Save it." She instructed, walking past the other woman towards Warrick and Nick. "You guys okay?"

"No?" Nick replied weakly, shifting again.

"Don't worry Nicky, the paramedics are on their way." Catherine reassured him. She looked to Warrick. "Where's Greg?"


End file.
